


Fascination

by ninetiesnecklace



Series: That Way Madness Lies [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prison Cell, Rough Sex, extended scene: 2.1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetiesnecklace/pseuds/ninetiesnecklace
Summary: Bodmin Jail.The night before Ross' trial.Enter George Warleggan and his particular skill to offer what Ross didn't know he wanted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Come on, don't tell me that scene wasn't missing something.

The cell was larger than Ross had expected; cleaner too and furnished with a simple bed as well as a table with two chairs. A futile gesture of good-will, in Ross’ eyes. This cell was made to be occupied by one person and he had effectively declined the one visitor he might have – Demelza was back in Nampara. He couldn’t bear the thought of her seeing him in cuffs again, witnessing the trial and being publically recognised as the wife of a possibly convicted offender. All soothing words and promises made to Demelza were the stuff of hopes as Ross well knew. He was by no means certain that he would walk out of the court a free man. Too many forces were at work, too many different opinions that could influence the judges. Even though his attorney had been explicit in his advice of twisting the truth Ross still couldn’t bring himself to rehearse a story. No, he would tell the truth of that night and it would protect him.

Shuffling in his chair he sighed deeply and turned back to the parchment in front of him. “My most beloved wife Demelza,” it read as of now. What to put behind the comma? Ross’ eyes jumped over the long dried ink, trying to put into words what didn’t form in his mind.

In his back the clicking of boots sounded, two pairs in fact, and the rattling of a key ring.

“I’m in no mood for visitors,” Ross said, concentrating on the parchment. But despite his statement the turnkey opened the cell door.

“Sounds ominous.”

That inflection, the clarity of the voice, suppressing any hint of an accent - Ross sat up and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there he was. George Warleggan stood on the threshold in a pristine coat of a dark red, the white neck cloth tied around his slender throat in the latest fashion. Yet there was no superiority in his demeanour; despite his wry comment George looked almost sheepish with his head slightly bowed and his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Ross drew his brows together, looking past him but the turnkey had already gone. Paid off, evidently, by George. What the banker had in mind seemed to be a private conversation. One that Ross was certainly not in the mood for.

With measured steps George walked past him, to the empty chair across from him. “I hope I’m not… disturbing you.”

The little pause did not go unnoticed. George was not as at ease as he would have Ross believe and with ever step the brunet grew more curious as to the nature of his visit. Gloating at the sight of Ross behind bars could surely be done without striking up a conversation.

Ross breathed out in a huff and answered, “I was writing to my wife.”

“I have not come to fight, Ross,” George assured him. “But to confess. Confess myself disarmed,” he sat down with a casual sweep of his coat, “impressed.”

 _Sure_. Experience showed that their encounters usually ended in a fight. One of them ended up with a black eye, the other with a split lip, having Demelza worried and neither of them calmed. Either that or… _George disarmed, panting, confessing whatever Ross wanted him to_. This peacock demeanour stripped from him.

Ross pressed his lips together at the sudden onslaught of memory. This was neither the place nor the time to dwell on another one of his wrong decisions in life. Especially not when the parchment in front of him addressed to Demelza.

Rather than reacting to George’s promising opening Ross merely looked at him with doubt shimmering in his eyes.

“Well, of course you would have guessed that Elizabeth asked me to intervene,” George went on as he realised that Ross would not prompt him, “But would you guess that Francis did, too. That Ray Penvenen tried to fight your corner.”

Ross took a deep breath and averted George’s piercing stare. The list of people sticking their necks out for him seemed to grow if the banker’s words could be trusted – but especially Francis should know that he had already declined George’s help once before.

“How do you inspire such loyalty?” George asked with honest curiosity, all earlier unease forgotten. “It impresses me. I see its value. I could use it.” A conceding nod, a conspiring hush in his voice, “I could do what they ask me to do. Remove the hostile witnesses, drop a word in the ear of the prosecution. I could even take the stand and give you a character reference. How would that sway the jury? From the very man whose cousin perished?”

Ross pressed his teeth together, listening to George’s carefully rehearsed speech. Part of him was delighted that George wouldn’t seek him out unprepared. This also meant, however, that George had thought it through. And as seductive as this offer sounded it certainly had a catch. George was inevitably building towards something; even though he sat straight on the chair an air of anticipation seemed to encompass him, a desire to close the deal. But even if Ross didn’t have to pay the price personally like George had claimed before he wouldn’t want to impose that debt on anyone else.

“What’d you say, Ross? Will you meet me halfway? Will you take the hand of friendship?”

At that George extended his hand, slowly, while his eyes were still fixed on Ross’ face. The nervousness he had exhibited around Ross on earlier occasions was entirely gone – across from him sat a man matured, more bold in his actions. Ross looked at the steady pale hand, the soft fingers and the powdered skin.

“Forgive me,” Ross spoke at last, his voice almost soft in the rough surroundings. “Are you truly so deluded? Do you think I would _ever_ shake your hand?”

For a moment George’s hand trembled lightly, unclaimed in the space between them. Then, the banker lowered his head and pulled his hand back. A shiver ran through his shoulders before a stifled chuckle climbed out of his throat.

“No,” he looked up and into Ross’ eyes. “No,” another chuckle, this time full and accompanied by a small shake of his head as if he laughed at a private joke. “Not for a single moment.”

 _You cunning bastard_. For a moment there Ross had believed the sincerity of the suggestion and actually looked forward to throwing it in George’s face. But this aloof laugh, this superior attitude… Just like old times and a flash of anger surged through him, largely at himself. That after all these years he still fell for George’s schemes. Ross clenched his jaw. There was no use in becoming angry, not here where any action of his could be potentially harmful to his impending trial.

If George was waiting for a reaction he hid it well. A fine smile appeared around his mouth. “You never have inspired friendship or loyalty in me.”

“No,” Ross said, slowly, “Just a good deal of obsession.”

“Fascination,” George corrected him and stood up, his hands automatically crossing behind his back. Now that his rehearsed routine was through a surprising casualness overcame him; a circumstance that made Ross tense up. Maybe George wasn’t dependent on a pre-fixed script with him after all. A few steps brought the banker on one level with him, forcing him to turn his head.

“And as far as I can remember,” George continued, “it did not remain one-sided.”

Every fibre in Ross wanted to deny it. It had been George who had sought him out, George who had initiated it, all this time ago. But somewhere along the way of this ‘involvement’ Ross had become hooked. And now, after everything was said and done, he was free again; a state he intended to keep.

“We were both young men,” Ross said calmly by way of circumventing the truth in George’s retort and stood up. Young, foolish, and impulsive.

“Not much younger than we are now. Though now you have your…” George squinted past him and looked at the paper, “most beloved wife Demelza.”

 _How dare you_. Their tryst had ended on no uncertain terms just before he met Demelza and now George had the audacity to drag her into this? On the night before his trial, no less. With difficulty Ross tried to calm his anger yet he couldn’t help but take a threatening step towards George.

“Leave her out of this.”

“How could I? Your reluctance to accept my help threatens her almost more than you. You stand to lose your life but she has to deal with the consequences.” Then, with fake concern, George added, “You have thought of that, have you not?”

Ross clenched his teeth. Having George spread out his desperate situation in no uncertain terms was a slap in the face. Ross _knew_ , goddammit, he knew what terrible situation he put Demelza in.

“I’d rather take my chances tomorrow than being in your debt.”

“A point you are proving impressively.” George raised his eyebrows and took in the surrounding cell.

“What do you want, George?” Ross asked, his voice pressed from anger and with a jerk of his chin which didn’t seem to affect the banker one bit. Instead, a gleam crept into George’s eyes, letting Ross come closer as if he hadn’t just breached his personal space.

“Tell me, Ross,” he said, casually, “Do you think about our involvement from time to time?”

Ross’ breath caught in his throat and for the first time in this conversation he was glad that the turnkey wasn’t present. This was nothing anyone should ever become aware of, neither now nor if he lived to see another day.

“Never.” Ross hoped that the finality carried in his voice as he looked sternly at George.

“Are you sure?” George tilted his head slightly and came even closer, his eyes lingering on Ross’ mouth in a moment of obscene candidness. “Do you _never_ think about what we did? What we enjoyed?”

 _George on his back, gripping the sheets tightly. Ross grabbing his thighs, hips bucking in need_.

Ross wetted his lips, nervously. “We didn’t do any such thing.”

George’s voice became deeper and seemed to bridge what little distance was left between them. “Oh, we did. And you know it.”

Ross’ throat turned dry when George’s hands emerged from behind his back, slowly, deliberately, and reached for his shirt collar.

“And maybe…” the banker said, undoing the first two buttons, “maybe you wish it to happen again.”

Ross tried to find words fitting to this situation, to express his disdain at George’s advances but his mind drew a blank. Those fingers hovering so close to his skin but only touching the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of George’s hands burning through it… _George on his knees, undoing Ross’ breeches, wrapping his rosy lips around Ross’ cock_.

Not waiting for an answer George leaned forward and the next thing Ross felt were warm lips pressing a languid kiss on his exposed neck. His heart gave a sudden jolt and his pulse hammered against George’s mouth, answering the banker’s musings wordlessly. _No, don’t let yourself be dragged in again_. But Ross’ hands remained uselessly at his side as a shiver of anticipation ran through him.

“Is this another immoral offer?” he managed to say with difficulty when George’s mouth left his skin. In the dim light of the prison cell George’s blue eyes appeared almost grey as he looked at Ross from under his lashes.

“I don’t recall you thinking it immoral in the past.” Still he spoke in a low whisper, a hint of wonder smoothing the rough edges of the words.

_George riding him, leaning over him, pinning his wrists to the mattress._

“George…” Ross began, unsure what to say but acutely aware of the warmth spreading through his body and into his groin. George was so incredibly close to him, so indecently close, and Ross smelled the hint of lavender of the banker’s perfume.

_George brushing along his sweet spot, Ross’ nails on his skin, throaty moans from both of them._

“Besides,” the banker went on, opening the third button on Ross’ shirt, halfway down his chest, “you made it clear you won’t accept any of my offers. So this isn’t one.”

With a casual twist of his wrist George ran his fingers over Ross’ right pec and the brunet couldn’t keep himself from giving a short huff. His nipple hardened and he felt his cock stir; his body a victim to George’s light and teasing touches like countless times before.

“What is it, then?” Ross asked as he tried to focus on the conversation but even in his own ears his voice sounded rougher and lower than appropriate.

George gave him a fine smile. “Fascination.”

Without hurry he leaned towards Ross again, pulling lightly on the fabric of his shirt, and pressed a kiss on his lips. For a moment Ross froze. This was a thing of the past, long gone and not to be repeated. They had been clear about this, it had been but a phase, an exciting but foolish phase… Yet George’s lips were so warm on his and Ross’ pulse jumped at the firmness of his kiss. No mere gentle brush that touched his skin but mixed with lingering intensity that sent a hot wave through Ross’ entire body.

Whether it was the loneliness of the dim cell, the impending trial, or George’s all too true words and his resulting anger – the moment the pressure of George’s lips waned something in Ross snapped. His head darted forwards and he caught the banker’s mouth in a hard kiss, grabbing his lapel and pulling him close. God, how good it was to not only feel the heat emerging from George’s body but having him pressed against him, his form like he remembered, his kiss stronger than he had dared to hope. George’s tongue teased and Ross immediately opened his mouth to the soft and wet swipe, his body trembling with forbidden anticipation. His cock strained against his breeches and when his left ran down George’s side and cupped his firm arse he felt the banker’s arousal against him. Ross groaned into George’s mouth as their erections rubbed against each other, separated by layers of clothing. Damn, he shouldn’t be the first one to announce his pleasure so openly, but what had George said? This was neither an offer nor a deal. And as such Ross’ reactions weren’t the content of the blank spaces in George’s calculation columns.

George moved his hips into Ross’ close embrace while the brunet sucked greedily on his lower lip. His hand squeezed George’s arse through his breeches, a feeling so familiar and yet entirely different. Something was different about George, in fact. Instead of giving way under Ross’ kiss he held his ground and opened another button on the brunet’s shirt before he slid his hands down his chest. There had always been heat in George’s touches but this time he showed a determination that Ross hadn’t expected. George carded through his chest hair and left a tingling trail down to his sides where his nails scratched Ross’ skin. The brunet broke the kiss with a huff of surprise as the sharp sensation ran trough him, right into his cock. His pulse was beating ridiculously heavy and just as the rational part of his brain tried to remind him of the indecency, the utter madness of this encounter, he caught George’s glance. All aloof snobbery was gone and the sheer need in George’s eyes muted whichever arguments spoke against this. His pale cheeks had gained a blush and his fine lips were parted slightly, shimmering in the dim light, just like Ross remembered, just like he had wanted him so long ago. _Like you want him now_. George ground against him once more and Ross groaned at the feeling of his hard cock; before he could find the banker’s waistband, however, George used his momentum to make Ross move back. Caught up in this new audacity George showed Ross didn’t think to protest.

One step further back and Ross’ back hit the prison cell bars. The cold drew a displeased huff from him. This was in bad taste – did George really need to remind him of his predicament? Ross opened his mouth to voice his disdain but before any word could make it out into the open George’s hands were at his waistband and stroked him through his breeches. Instinctively, he bucked into the touch and pulled George closer by his fancy neck cloth. A hard yank and the knot untangled, still lying around the nape of George’s neck but with the ends falling into Ross’ hands. Another pull and the brunet placed his lips on the hollow of George’s throat. Under the powder and lavender he could make out the scent so inherent to George, a scent he doubted anyone else knew as well as him. Not even the stale air in the prison made a difference and under his lips the banker moaned lightly and the sound vibrated against Ross’ lips in titillating waves. George’s hands still busied themselves with Ross’ buttons when the pressure of the waistband left his skin. Swift strokes over his stomach left Ross shivering – George’s hand was so close to where he wanted it to be, his cock rock hard and eager to be touched. The banker didn’t lose any time. In one smooth move yet every finger moving a tad bit slower than the last George wrapped his hand around Ross’ erection. The brunet choked out a grunt as the succession of pressure hit him and he drew his lips back from George, pulling down his breeches further to give him better access. His long fingers finally touching him without interfering fabric felt so exciting after the tense build up and Ross pushed his hips forward, greedy for friction.

With a wolfish smile George placed his other hand on Ross’ chest and pressed him back against the bars. Then, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on Ross’ nipple. The brunet gasped quietly at the sudden suction and, on instinct, pressed his chest and hips closer to George’s soft hands and clever lips. A slight chuckle reached his ear but even before he could be certain that it had come from George the banker kissed a trail down the middle of his chest, as far as the unbuttoned shirt allowed him to. His hand continued to stroke Ross’ cock in a steady rhythm as he let himself sink to his knees. Ross wetted his lips in arousal – George, dressed in his expensive coat of a dark red, breeches of equal quality, a nouveau-riche gentleman par excellence, knelt down in front of him in this dingy prison cell and tugged his trousers further down. The loose fabric of the neck cloth swung about his neck as his lips left Ross’ stomach and it was this detail that struck the brunet. Almost perfect, almost impeccable. Almost a gentleman, about to behave like a whore.

Ross breathed heavily and felt another wave of heat rush through him. He looked down to see George’s hand move slower, the shock of hair with the perfect curls obscuring the features of his face, and the banker’s left grabbed his hips. Only the pressure of his hand made Ross realise that he had been moving into George’s strokes more and more each time and with difficulty he adhered to the request. He saw George lean forward and the next sensation that hit him with full force was the slow swipe of the banker’s tongue at the base of his cock, licking a leisurely stripe to the head. Ross’ groan came from deep in his throat as he felt the warm, wet caress of George’s tongue on his hard cock, the final flick to the head making his breath hitch. George barely left him a moment when he closed his lips around the tip of his cock and suckled lightly, his hand stroking Ross’ length. The brunet couldn’t help but buck into the delicious suction; his right reached for George and he buried his hand in his hair. George’s lips slid up his cock from the momentum and Ross’ hand tightened around a fistful of hair as the slick heat wetted his erection. On his knees George gave a choked groan, the vibrations of it drawing a moan from Ross and his eyes fell shut in delight. He needed more, more of George’s mouth on his cock, more touches that kept him from the harsh reality he was facing, more pleasure to repeat what he had sworn to give up.

Yet the banker’s hand on his hipbone pushed him back against the bars with considerable strength. Ross’ eyes darted open again and he caught George’s gaze – nothing in his eyes spoke of the submission his position implied and which Ross had inadvertently assumed. Well, George really had changed. And Ross would be damned if this suddenly bossy behaviour didn’t make him tick. Accepting his terms he leaned fully against the cell bars in his back and let go of George’s hair, winding his fingers around the metal. His decision gained him a long, slow suck from the banker. His thighs were trembling from the intensity as George’s slick lips slid up and down Ross’ length and every bob of his head took him in deeper. His hand gently fondled his testicles while he hollowed his cheeks, his other hand digging into Ross’ hipbone. The pinch made Ross moan; the softness of George’s mouth, the perfect suction and the sharp sensation made for an intoxicating mixture. God, George sucked his cock as if he were paid for it. In pleasure Ross leaned his head against the bars, his hands tightening around them; the drag of George’s tongue drew a trail of sparks along the underside of his cock.

“Is that all you bribed the turnkey for?”  Ross asked breathlessly, raggedly, looking down at the other man and his maddeningly rosy lips.

George’s movements slowed down as he held Ross’ gaze and a hint of mischievousness crept into the greyish eyes. His right tightened around the base of Ross’ cock and the brunet groaned quietly at the sudden pressure that kept his arousal but brought him back from the edge. The rhythm George had established faded as he pulled back slowly. Ross swallowed at the sight – inch after inch his erection left the enticing mouth and with an obscene sound George pulled off.

“No,” he answered simply yet it seemed a different kind of negation. Still in the same mischievous vein like his answers before but not intended to agitate him. Quite the contrary: his voice, coming from the mouth that had just pleasured Ross so well, sounded rougher than he had ever heard it. Ross’ heart beat heavily in his chest. His cock strained in George’s grip, the banker’s mouth remained still so close that he could feel his breath cooling the spit he had left on it.

“Stand up.”

Smooth as if he hadn’t just spent time on his knees George did as he was told. His hair was slightly dishevelled from Ross’ fingers and with one smooth move the brunet ripped off George’s neck cloth for good, the pale neck completely bared now and the cloth lying on the rough ground next to the cell bars. George barely stood upright when Ross already grabbed him by the lapel of his coat. George’s eyes widened and his hands came up in a reflex of defence but Ross threw his weight against him and made him walk backwards. Taken aback the banker stumbled a little and his hands found Ross’ upper arms, holding onto them for balance.

Ross didn’t have any problems moving George over to the table – once the banker understood the meaning of the motion he grabbed Ross’ arms and let himself be pushed, both of them moving almost as if performing a dance. If his mind hadn’t been so focussed on getting George on his back Ross would have laughed at the absurd moment. But then George’s lower back hit the table and Ross pressed against him, halfway undressed with his breeches barely clinging to his hips. His hands ran up George’s chest and Ross pushed the overcoat off his shoulders; the banker let go of his arms and shrugged it off, letting it fall on the parchments on the table behind him and revealing his grey waistcoat. The motion made his narrow hips squirm deliciously under Ross’ pressure. Dammit, having him trapped between him and the table when George had been so sure that he had the upper hand – Ross ground into him and, without doubt, left stains on the expensive fabric through which he felt George’s hard cock. George placed his hands on the table, leaned back and moaned quietly with parted lips. It was only a small sound but it almost drove Ross insane. Before long he’d draw sounds from George that’d leave his voice hoarse. The longing sigh together with this clear presentation of his chest was an invitation he couldn’t resist and he all but ripped open the waistcoat’s buttons. Under it, a starched dress shirt and black suspenders appeared. Ross leaned forward and pressed his lips on George’s pulse, right under his clean-shaven jaw. Hectically, it fluttered against his mouth and Ross licked over it, deeply inhaling George’s scent under the lavender perfume. His right pulled open George’s shirt as far as possible while his left ran along the side of the suspender, thumb finding the banker’s hard nipple. That had always been one of the things that made George tick and even this small amount of attention didn’t fail to deliver: instead of squirming his hips now pressed into him and with a dark smile against the banker’s neck Ross sucked a mark into the immaculate skin that would have to be covered carefully during tomorrow’s trial. His left lifted the suspender and let it spring back, hitting the remains of George’s dress shirt and the hard nipple under it. The banker’s sharp inhale ended in a shaky moan and when Ross pulled back from his neck he saw his eyes flutter shut. A second snap of the suspenders gained Ross another moan that seemed to go right into his cock – George had surrendered to him in a matter of minutes and Ross couldn’t wait to make the most of it. He pulled the suspenders over George’s arms which were shaking ever so slightly in keeping his weight and stroked over his half-clothed torso.

Despite his lean appearance George was well-trained – not muscled like Ross from countless hours of field labour but nevertheless his chest was defined, pale like the rest of him, giving way to a fairly broad ribcage and a flat stomach from which a thin trail of curled hair led to his groin. Under the smooth skin Ross felt muscles and an overall firmness; George evidently didn’t spend all day inside counting money like some would claim. Ross grabbed George’s waistband and hurriedly undid the buttons; as much fun as it was to keep him on edge Ross’ own arousal demanded a quicker progression of things. George bucked lightly in hopes of Ross’ hand on his erection and took his weight of his arms. One wound around Ross’ neck while the other pulled out a small bottle from his pocket. _Of course_. The thought that George had planned all this would have made Ross angry under different circumstances. But when the banker put his weight forward to help him pull down his breeches and looked at him expectantly Ross’ priorities were clear. For a moment he let go of him to pour the thick oil on his right, then he grabbed George’s firm arse and ran a finger between his cheeks. Slick, soft, already without the additional lube on his fingers.

“George,” he murmured in arousal. The banker looked at him with parted lips and eyes half-shut, the very image of anticipation. Ross circled his hole slowly, once, twice, and easily pushed in his finger. A shiver ran through George and his fingers tightened on Ross’ neck.

“Ross,” he moaned and pushed his hips back when the brunet slowly moved his finger, opening him up. George’s body adjusted easily – for a moment Ross was caught in images of George prepping himself in private, just before he had come to see him. Then, to the sound of a frustrated moan from George, Ross withdrew his fingers.

A deep look into George’s eyes, pupils blown, and Ross whispered, “Kick off your boots.”

Without hesitation George followed Ross’ command, leaning against the table and making quick work of his garments while the brunet shrugged off his overcoat, throwing it carelessly to the side. The dull thud of one boot hitting the ground sounded and Ross’ hands were back on George before he could discard the second boot. Ross’ fingers remembered the routine well as they undid George’s breeches quickly. Of course it had never been in a setting as unconventional as this but both men knew what they were doing – in a matter of moments Ross had disposed of the buttons and almost lifted George onto the table, ripping down the breeches as far as possible. He freed George’s right leg from the fabric while he only uncovered parts of his left thigh; the remaining boot made it impossible to undress him entirely in the heat of the moment but Ross didn’t mind. George was as aroused as he was; his hard cock already shone with pre-cum and his obvious desire only incited Ross further. He pulled his own breeches farther down and stroked his own cock a few times, slicking it with the lube before he pulled George towards him and let himself fall on the chair. The banker didn’t lose a moment. Spreading his legs he climbed on top of Ross and lowered himself onto his flush cock. Ross groaned deeply as he felt his erection enter George’s body – his weight on Ross’ lap, the tight feeling of his hole, his hands grabbing his shoulders all combined into a rush of sensations that the brunet could barely process. He grabbed George’s hips to steady him as he sat down fully and for a moment neither man moved. George met his eyes but he didn’t seem to focus on him, too caught up in adjusting to Ross’ cock. He had drawn in his lower lip which he lightly bit in an utterly delicious expression of need; Ross saw his chest move in deep breaths as sweat wetted his own collar and stuck to his neck, George’s body heat intensifying the warmth that ran through his veins.

“Move,” Ross grunted out and this clear command broke the momentary stillness between them. George’s fingers dug deeper into Ross’ shoulders when he began to rock forward. It was a somewhat slow move, almost tentative, but George gave a string of little moans that tempted Ross to join in. George’s eyes were shut again as he rocked back and forth, the high cheekbones looking even sharper in the half-light and for a moment he looked every inch the wrecked decadence that tempted Ross so much – expensive clothing rumpled, skin more bared than covered, a light layer of sweat making him look utterly indecent as he moved on his cock. In the fancy drawing rooms of the gentry George passed as a gentleman yet to Ross he looked like belonging to another trade altogether.

In sudden resolve George picked up the speed of his thrusts; Ross gasped when the friction on his cock intensified and spread into his thighs and stomach.

“George,” he groaned, his beating heart leaping into his throat.

In this moment George’s eyes opened and met Ross’ stare but no feeling of shame or being caught grew in the brunet. George’s thighs tightened around him and Ross’ hand flew to his perky arse, every rocking a brush along his fingers. His other hand took hold of the side of George’s neck; his hair was wet with sweat already and this small detail only heightened Ross’ arousal. George was properly working, for him and his pleasure and his swift movements on Ross’ cock were exhilarating. Ross traced his jaw line with his thumb and stroked over the thin lower lip, red and part of George’s delectable mouth. He moaned and closed his lips around Ross’ thumb but the brunet acted faster. Leaning forward he caught George’s lips in a messy kiss, his tongue pushing into his mouth without resistance. Ross’ kiss grew greedier by the second as he licked into his mouth, biting and sucking on his lower lip which granted him the low moan he so relished to hear. The fast drag on his cock made Ross feel dizzy, together with the taste of George and something else that he couldn’t quite place. It took him a second to realise. The salty, heavy flavour on George’s lips was his own, the taste of his cock which was now moving inside George. Ross gasped into the kiss, moaned; it was so filthy and _wrong_ to take such pleasure in his own taste on another man’s lips but god, what good were thoughts of modesty when George’s thrusts became faster. His lithe body moved so smoothly under his grip and Ross couldn’t help but buck into him. The chair creaked in protest but he didn’t care – this was too good, George taking his cock like this while his own erection rubbed against Ross’ stomach with every thrust. The banker worked him so hard that every cell in Ross’ body demanded _more_. Impulsively, his arms wound around George’s middle and pulled him closer as he broke the kiss; George’s hands moved on to his shoulder blades and a sudden scratch made Ross take in a sharp breath. The stinging trail of George’s nails ran down his back when the banker all but slammed himself back on Ross’ lap. Whether it was him or George who groaned deeply Ross couldn’t tell but the banker dug his fingers into his back to use him as leverage for another hard thrust. George straddled him tighter and every jerk of his hips showed in his thighs, his muscles flexing under the smooth skin and the remaining fabric. Ross felt almost tied to the chair from the momentum of George’s entire body. And every time the banker’s arse hit his thigh Ross pulled him closer still, grinding against him as deeply as he could. Heat rushed through him and his sweat mixed with George’s; their bodies were so close that the remains of his dress shirt showed wet stains from within and without.

Ragged breaths came from George that hit Ross’ neck in a hot gush. Even though George was serving him so well Ross couldn’t help himself – he wanted to be the one to actively fuck George, to make him come, like it had been and how he had liked it best. George’s cock was spreading pre-cum over Ross’ stomach and the trembling in his thighs told him just how far gone the banker was by now. _Perfect_. In a prompt move Ross leaned forward, arms still firmly wound around George to keep him from falling, and the banker’s back connected with the table.

“Ross,” he gasped out with wide eyes at the unexpected movement of Ross’ body but immediately propped up his elbows on the table behind him. Ross’ breath hitched – George’s grinding hadn’t stopped. His thrusts were less hard but the new angle was so different and just as intense. His torso was laid out beautifully in front of him, barely covered by the dress shirt, and forming a tense arch to bridge the distance to the board. His cock was hard and glinting with pre-cum as he still bucked against Ross, every sinew and muscle in his body taut. Most of his left leg was still clothed in his tight breeches and this sign of urgency, of the nature of their encounter aroused Ross even more. _A sight to behold_.

But he wanted George on his back on the goddamn table. Ross tensed and in one fast move he stood up from the chair, George’s thighs clinging to his middle while his arms supported his back. The chair screeched over the stone floor as it skidded back a few inches and George’s back hit the table, lying on top of his overcoat and the parchments. Ross felt his cock slip from George in the movement which caused the banker to groan in need; his hands clutched the sides of the table to steady himself and his legs fell open. Ross breathed heavily and felt his hair stick to his temples when he leaned over George, placing his left next to his shoulder and grabbing the banker’s half-clothed thigh. Ross couldn’t suppress a wanton moan at the sight of George’s flushed cheeks and his utterly ruined appearance. Nothing George would ever say could measure up to the immoral offer of having him sprawled out on the table, burning for his touches. A thrust of Ross’ hips and his cock slid back into George’s wet hole. His nails dug into the breeches’ fabric which made the feeling of George’s nakedness under him so much more intense. Ross craned his neck and sucked George’s nipple into his mouth, his hips thrusting into his willing body at a fast pace, angling for his prostate.

“Ross, please,” George gasped out and bucked into the thrust, his knuckles turning pale when he grabbed the sides of the table harder. Ross licked over the hard nipple and grazed his teeth over it – the small sounds of pleasure between the deep moans coming from George stirred his whole body, his blood rushing. George’s left darted out and grabbed a fistful of his curls and Ross gave a low groan as the tingling sensation ran from his scalp into his neck. He lifted his head in a sharp move and stared at George’s blown pupils and sweaty brow while he pushed into him again, brushing his prostate again and with every thrust now. Deep in his groin Ross felt his orgasm approaching, fast. The blowjob, the teasing and riding had set every nerve ending in his body on fire and now that he was fully in charge Ross could barely hold back. George’s thighs trembled and Ross felt his hole quiver, the friction almost driving him insane. George took his cock with such _stamina_ and if it weren’t for Ross’ breeches restricting him he would take him even harder.

Ross let go of George’s thigh which he immediately pressed against the brunet’s middle, hooking his legs behind his back. In the back of Ross’ mind something tried to remind him that he hated the man in front of him, that he had hated him even during their affair. But the harmony in their movements couldn’t be denied even if Ross wanted; the intensity of George’s thrust grew as he met Ross’ perfectly to make them both gasp in pleasure. His free hand jumped to George’s cock, untouched all this time save for friction from their bodies pressed against each other. The banker almost arched off the table when Ross wrapped his long fingers around his erection and began to stroke him in time with their thrusts.

“Ross, I…” he slurred but his voice lost itself in his throat, replaced by a low gasp.

Ross’ heart was beating heavily as his fingers, slick from the lube, ran along George’s cock. The hardness under the soft skin felt so exhilarating as the sensation joined force with the intensity of his own cock pushing into George. Ross barely noticed the grunts falling from his lips constantly now, mixing with George’s moans and bouncing off the naked walls of the prison cell. The banker’s chest was heaving and Ross’ head darted forward to suck on his neck. Fresh sweat and George’s taste hit him but before Ross could leave another mark on his skin the banker bucked harder against his hand and back on his cock. Ross groaned loudly and rested his forehead on the spot where George’s neck met his shoulder. His hips and hand worked relentlessly now, struggling to keep the rhythm as he skirted closer to the edge. His entire body trembled with need and his breath came in hard gushes against George’s neck, the fire in his veins almost a torment in its forcefulness. Under him George squirmed and one of his hands had somehow found its way onto Ross’ back, pulling him closer while his legs drew him in.

“God, George,” Ross moaned hoarsely into his ear as George shivered under him, his hand still working the banker’s cock in hard strokes. A flick of his wrist and a swipe over the tip gained Ross another arch of George’s torso as he threw his head back in a ragged gasp. This pure abandon in George’s demeanour, the needy sounds, the warmth of his skin and the thrilling pressure on Ross’ cock… the brunet barely registered anything save for the exhilarating sensations George provided him with. Entangled and clawing in almost desperate need the two men moved against each other, heat searing through Ross when George scratched down his back again and he nailed his prostate constantly, another drag of his lips, a stroke of his hand and a hard thrust and George came with a shout that echoed through the jail. Ross grunted as George’s release dripped over his hand and hitting both their stomachs when he continued to stroke him through his orgasm. George’s breath came ragged and Ross let his cock slide through the tight circle of his fingers, wet and slick and as filthy as he had hoped, as he wished and _needed_. George’s hole twitched around his cock, sending hot sparks of pleasure through him that left him shivering and on his next deep thrust Ross came with a low grunt. The sound was almost lost in George’s continuing moans when he moved up against Ross again but the brunet didn’t notice – too intense was the sensation of his orgasm rushing through him. The first fraction of a second he didn’t even sense pleasure. His body was strung and with a start he felt the pressure intensify, taking him higher and only then the rush went entirely to his head as his orgasm hit with full force. His hips lost their rhythm entirely and Ross pushed messily as he spilled into George, groaning in desire and release, biting his shoulder. The banker gasped and buried his hand in his hair when Ross rode out his orgasm in his compliant body. Wave after wave of pleasure shot through him and both men ground against each other until Ross’ hips finally slowed down and he pulled his mouth from George’s skin.

Ross placed his palms on the table and pushed himself off George. When his cock slipped from him the banker gave a low huff but otherwise remained where he was; on his back, as sweaty and messy as Ross felt, the evidence of their shared pleasure in plain sight. Decidedly, Ross turned his back on George and fumbled for a tissue in the pockets of his breeches, already pulling them up again. He hadn’t quite caught his breath yet but who knew when the turnkey would be back and just how much of his silence George had bought. His head was still dizzy when he cleaned himself up as well as possible and his body felt comfortably heavy. Memories of a past affair, that particular chemistry between him and George or simply the real possibility of being convicted and hanged – whichever had brought this on, Ross couldn’t deny that this had been one of the best lays he had ever had. In the back of his mind a thought about Demelza threatened to come forward in an accusatory manner but before it could fully form Ross pushed it aside. All in due time. And this was neither the time, nor the place.

In his back George had begun to move. Ross heard him shuffling and in his mind’s eye he could almost tell how George cleaned himself with a tissue as well, moving about and picking up his discarded clothes. The light rustle of the waistcoat, the clicking of the buttons hitting the ones on the dress shirt… Ross slightly shook his head and concentrated on straightening his own garments. His eyes lingered on the long corridor when George appeared next to him. A hint of tension snuck into Ross’ relaxed muscles but the banker merely bowed down to fetch the neck cloth still lying by the bars.

Both men had just finished fixing their clothes when the heavy boots of the turnkey sounded through the corridor. As if this was the cue George had waited for he turned to Ross.

“Thank you,” he said, smoothing the front of his red coat which looked inexplicably even, “For being every bit as predictable as I hoped you’d be.”

Ross merely lifted an eyebrow. He should have known that George wouldn’t just leave without another attempt of belittling him, of finishing the rhetoric he had started out with. Predictable, maybe. George may have planned almost all of that but the fact remained that Ross was his trigger – and both men knew it.

“And thank you,” Ross replied, slightly husky, “For reminding me what can and cannot be bought.”

A fine smile played around George’s mouth as he took his words every bit with a grain of salt as Ross had his. Maybe that was the only way they could ever interact – each according to his fixed role, irritating each other until some sort of reaction erupted. With a last look at George Ross turned back to the chair and table while the turnkey escorted his visitor outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


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